


Ambrosia

by Anonymous



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Age Difference, Barebacking, Dub-con due to age difference, F/M, Male-Female Friendship, Nipple Licking, Nipple Play, Semi-Public Sex, Underage Sex, Unsafe Sex, Unspecified Age for Jo, Vaginal Sex, Young!Teen!Jo, nipple fetish
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-28
Updated: 2020-03-28
Packaged: 2021-03-01 01:42:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,337
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23367142
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: John loves the Roadhouse in summer. Roadhouse in summer means: Jo has to get the drinks from the cellar - and the cellar is cold. And Jo usually wears these flimsy tops, so going to the cellar makes her sweet little nipples poke through the fabric...John loves the summers.John is also good with words.
Relationships: Jo Harvelle/John Winchester
Comments: 7
Kudos: 46
Collections: Anonymous





	Ambrosia

**Author's Note:**

> ...yeah. Please read the tags and heed them, because everything that's listed there WILL happen in this fic.

Summer is his favourite season, without question. – Ellen’s Roadhouse is as muggy as anywhere else, really, the heat weighing down on everyone who entered, and yet.

John’s saving money during winter, during cold springs, all to be able to go to the Roadhouse in summer. He could’ve rented a nice cabin, for the hottest day, or drive to the sea and spend his time there.

But he doesn’t. Takes jobs close-by and stays, because, well.

The Roadhouse has Jo.

And while Jo is a temptation all year ‘round, she’s even sweeter during summer. Like a peach.

John _loves_ going to the Roadhouse.

Entering it is miserable: here, the air is muggy, barely a single gust of fresh air wafting in from the windows thrown open wide. No luck. But that also means that there are few people: him included, maybe two or three, no more.

He slips onto a barstool. The one closest to the cellar staircase. Discreetly, he slips as close as he can, until he can lean over the counter.

“A beer please.”

“Sure!”, Jo says, “Cold, I guess?”

“Hopefully.”, he answers and grins at her.

Jo just laughs and walks down the stairs. She’s not wearing a bra. Her spaghetti top is – bare, there are no bra straps. Under the thin fabric of the top, she might be naked, the soft fabric on her tits…

John swallows, drily, as he watches her disappear. Her shorts, too. The shortest she can get away with, in this heat. Is she wearing any underwear at all? Fuck. Nothing at all has happened, yet John can feel his jeans tighten up.

Soon, Jo returns, a bottle of beer in her hand as she walks back up again.

John stares. Because the cellar, where they keep their drinks, is cold. And it really, really is: her nipples are stiff, poking through her shirt. She _really_ isn’t wearing a bra.

“Here.”, she says, bending forward to slide over the bottle.

John stares down her top and for one brief moment he can see a flash of her bare breasts. Oh fuck, yeah.

Discreetly, he spreads his legs some more to take some pressure off.

“So, busy days?”

“Mmm, no, not really…mom’s thinking of closing the Roadhouse for a few days or weeks…weather forecast says it’s gonna stay this hot for some time.”, Jo tells him while wiping down the counter.

Pointless, John knows: those counters were sticky and impossible to clean even since before Jo’s birth, had been so even when John had been a teenager and barely old enough to drink – and now they were even worse.

But Jo tries, anyways, and the fabric of her top catches on her nipples and just sometimes, barely, almost outlines the cup of her small breasts for a tempting flash.

“Doesn’t sound like it’d be good for business.”

Jo sighs at him and sits down on the bar chair behind the counter.

“Yeah.”, she agrees and her shoulders slump, “But it’s not as if this business is making us a lot of money, either”

John takes a gulp of his beer and looks around. Seems like the two guys that had bent their heads together at a table have left. They’re alone. Of course, Ellen wouldn’t be too far away, but if she’d left the Roadhouse in Jo’s hands, well…

“’Got an idea how to make some money…”, he says.

His heart his thumping wildly in his chest. What he’s doing is dangerous, of course, playing with fire. All of it. The fact that he’s doing it here, right in the Roadhouse. Ellen’s kingdom. In public. With Jo: Ellen’s daughter, young, too young. And what he’s about to propose – one scream of hers and it’s over, or if she talks about this –

He swallows and forces the nerves down. Calm and steady. No hunt has ever been won by being nervous, so neither will this.

“Yeah?”, Jo visibly perks up.

John taps against his half-empty bottle and very, very much does not look at her.

“Mmm.”, he trails off, and right before Jo can ask, does ask, standing on her tiptoes and leaning forward, closer to him – from the corner of his eyes he can see her top, her throat, her – he looks away. Getting lost in the thoughts of her tits right now is the worst thing he could do. Smooth playing, here.

“…but your mom would hate it.”, he finishes.

Jo gasps.

“She would?”

“For sure.”, and he looks up.

Hook, line, sinker. He’d gambled right: apparently, Jo _really_ was at that age of puberty when all the kids wanted was to protest against their parents. And with Ellen as a mother…yeah, John somewhat understands.

As it is, Jo beams at him, as if he brought Christmas early.

“What is it?”

“Has your mom talked to you about boys?”

“Yeah”, Jo said, scrunching her nose, “Told me to stay away from them and not touch them and not be touched by them.”

Abstinence only? Oh, John wants to laugh, it’s bubbling in his belly. This is becoming easier and easier by the moment.

Outwardly, he just hums in agreement.

“So she’d hate it if you…”

Jo grins and walks around the bar, until she’s standing next to him. God, she’s so tiny still, slender, not yet grown into an adult. John wants to eat her up.

“She would.”, Jo agrees to what he hasn’t finished saying, and: “Can you?”

Oh, she’s so adorable with how much she wants to rebel against her mother – and at the same time it is so hot, her naivety; _she_ is hot. And now she’s actually asking him to touch her, too!

“Of course”

Gently, he cups her hips, just a warm touch to ground her. It’s tricky: he has to tread the fine line of how much he wants to touch her versus how much he can touch her. The want is huge: he’d love nothing more than spread her out on the bar counter, bury his head between her legs and eat her out until she’d be soaking and only then he’d fuck her until her pretty little tits bounced while he sucked her nipples.

But he can’t do that, she’d scream for Ellen faster than he could call her name. No, he has to play his cards right.

He can do it slowly, if it’ll mean it will end where he wants it to.

His hands rub circles into her sides. It’s an innocent thing, almost, gentle. Someone looking at them might just say that it is not weird except for how it is just weird enough to be slightly off.

“Is that what your mom meant?”, he asks with a low voice.

“I – I don’t think so.”, she stammers, eyes flicking up at him.

“Hmm, that’s what I thought.”

And slips his hands up until his thumbs can sweep across Jo’s nipples, finally. Just a light, quick brush, but Jo gasps still, twitching.

“How does this feel?”, he asks, even gentler, trying to shape his voice as sweet, as low as he can, crooning into her ears. Tempting her.

His cock is so hard it’s painful.

“Good.”, she says, “Weird. Uhm. D’you – can you –“, she’s playing with the hem of her top, nervously.

“Yes, of course.”

This time, he doesn’t just brush against her nipples. No, he slowly rubs his thumbs across them, feeling their warmth through the thin fabric. How stiff they are – maybe a case of bad nerves, or the cellar still? Or maybe they got hard because of him? Hmmm.

Again and again, circling them. His palm cups her tits this way, sometimes, and they’re just the perfect size for that. It feels so lovely. He teases her nipples until they’re hard and poking through the shirt.

“Like this?”

Jo just nods. Her face is bright red.

“You know, it would probably feel even better without the shirt.”

For a second, Jo doesn’t react, but then, in one, jerky act of bravery, she pulls it off.

The blush dips down her throat, her chest, and it’s so bright, he can almost feel its heat. Doesn’t matter, because Jo’s topless.

She’s goosebumped – but oh, her tits are even lovelier than he’d daydreamed. Such a sweet, little cup, and those perky nipples! So pink and sweet. God, they’re just made to be suckled, too, until they’d swell up, all puffy.

Not yet, though.

He cups her breasts, finger gently massaging them. Teasing her, interspersed with some flicks against her nipples that make her gasp under her breath. So responsive, too, Jo’s so sweet, John wants to eat her up, right here, right now.

“How does this feel?”, he croons, circling her nipples with his thumb.

They’re pink still, but slowly starting to flush, too, getting darker.

“Good”, Jo breathes, voice airy.

Her hands are clutching the counter so hard her knuckles are white.

“How about a kiss…they’re cute to do just that… _you’re_ cute to deserve all kisses.”

Carefully looking at her face, John leans forward. The closer he gets, the darker Jo’s blush grows, until she looks as if she might burst into flames. Adorable, that. Oh, young girls.

He kisses her left nipple, then the right. Gentle kisses, too, no tongue, nothing – Jo still gasps, twitches, as if he’d –

\- but she pushes closer, sticking out her chest, as if searching for his mouth, as if wanting it back –

John kisses her nipples again, opening his mouth slightly. Suckling on her lovely, pretty pink nipples. Who’ve been teasing him for months now, hidden under Jo’s cute tops, teasingly stiff whenever she’d come up from the cellar.

And now they’re in his mouth and Jo sighs, her whole body trembling as he sucks on them. Just lightly, more of a tease, and wet. It seems to be doing it for her: one of her hands is on his shoulder, clutching him, her grip surprisingly strong for her delicate palm and fingers.

“And how does this feel, Jo?”, he asks, pressing one last kiss to her right nipple.

When he leans back and looks at her tits, he could blow a load right then and there: her nipples are just perfect: now they’re flushed and dark pink and puffy, absolutely perfect on top of the small curve of her tits. Fuck, John’s never going to forget this particular view.

“Stop asking this stupid question when it _obviously_ feels good for me”, she says, voice half-angry, but her body language is saying something different: her legs are shaking as she stands.

Fear? Arousal? Nerves? Maybe a mix of all three? Better not spook her. John’s worked on her tits, he’s not going to stop here, if he can help it – which he will.

Gently, he puts his hands on her sides – and god, she’s so small in his hold. And trembling like a bird, too.

“Jo, I want you to feel good, okay? And I’m just asking to be sure.”

“Ok.”, she says, hunching her shoulders slightly. It pulls on her tits slightly and John’s gaze is immediately drawn by them.

“I just – I don’t know. It’s weird to just…stand there and do nothing, while you do everything.”

Oh. John briefly closes his eyes, pushing back the pictures his mind conjures of Jo on her knees, sucking him with determination yet without any finesse, or of her legs wrapped around his hips as he fucks her: against the counter, on one of the tables, behind the counter, against his chair, everywhere, Jo’s pussy dripping with it, and then her ass –

But no. He can’t. Got to take his time with her. Patience.

“ _Do_ you want to do something?”

Jo looks at him as if daring him to say anything that implied that she didn’t have to or that she wouldn’t be perfect at it – the determined gaze of a hunter, no doubt, hell or high water: looking this through to the end. She nods, once.

“How about you sit on my lap for some time?”

If she does, she’ll feel how hard he is. Maybe he can trick her into rubbing herself against his cock? Her lithe body on his lap is basically a dream come true anyways, and to get her to rock against his bulge, perhaps not knowing any better what he’s getting from it…John has to bite the inside of his cheek. Oh, yeah.

“And that’s doing something for you?”, Jo asks, incredulously.

_If only you knew,_ John wants to say but doesn’t. Her innocence is truly adorable – she’s still shirtless, her nipples still hard and puffy, and he’s rock hard in his jeans. Has been for quite some time, if he’s honest. To have her on his lap, all half naked as she is, would be more than enough for him; she’d barely have to rub herself against him to get him there.

“Well, if you want to do more…”, and Jo interrupts him:  
  


“Yes!”

God, she’s going to kill him.

“Take this off for me?”, he asks, finger tapping against Jo’s shorts.

“I…”, she starts, visibly hesitating.

Her fingers start toying with the fabric, kneading it. John’s heart is beating so quickly with nerves it’s almost vibrating with it. This is it, this is the moment, it feels like: the whole situation spinning on a knife’s tip, ready to fall in all directions. And if it’s the wrong one, he’s fucked.

“…ok. But don’t look.”, she finally relents.

“I won’t.”, he easily agrees, getting comfortable on his chair.

Fuck, his cock is going to drill a hole in his pants any second now.

He stares at Jo’s face. Anywhere lower and he will look at her pussy, he just knows himself. And if her tits were this sweet already, and her nipples this lovely, how would her pussy be if not more of all that?

“Okay.”, she says, and looks him in the eyes.

As if checking that he wouldn’t stare at her pussy. God, he wants to. Wants to sneak a look or finger…or two.

“How about you sit on my lap _now_ , Jo? Because that would do a lot for me.”, he says, voice drawn from somewhere far away.

His heart thunders loudly as she slips onto his lap.

Naked.

Jo’s sitting on his lap, naked, her tiny hands clutching his shoulders and her legs are dangling. She’s still stiff with tension, of course, but she’s sitting right there, dwarfed by him.

“Thank you, that’s really good for me, _you_ are being so good for me, Jo…”

Jo draws a sharp breath. Oh, so this was something she liked, then? Good to know.

“I think it’s time that you feel good again, too. Don’t you think? I think you deserve feeling really good.”

“I’m – “, she starts and buries her face against his shoulder.

Her hair smells like strawberries and John is painfully aware how close her pussy is to his cock. Just a few scant inches and some fabric, that’s all.

Slowly, he puts his hands on her knees, the touch feathery light, and moves up. Taking his time. Her thighs are surprisingly thin, and they tremble, which is getting worse the closer he gets to her hips. But she doesn’t stop him, doesn’t even say anything. Against his throat, her breath is hot and wet as she gasps.

And then his fingers have reached their goal. With one hand, he cups her ass – and with the other, he starts on her pussy. No fingering yet, of course: he’s not stupid. Her clit, however, is fair game.

Jo moans, the noise ripped from her throat in half-shock, as if he hadn’t expected for it to feel like this. And he hasn’t even done anything beyond slowly rubbing against her clit. Just one quick, brief touch, nothing more.

He doesn’t ask her if it feels good, this time. Just slowly circles around her clit, dips his fingers lower to gather her slickness – and she is getting wet, or was wet already? When she climbed on his lap? Was she wet when she sat down? Because she’s too wet for that brief touch.

John plays with her and Jo, oh, she’s being so sweet for him: she trembles and whimpers, holding onto him for dear life, fingers digging into his shoulders and if he wasn’t wearing his shirt, her fingernails would scratch him open. As it is, she sits on his laps, legs spread, and takes his touches so lovely, legs shaking more and more the longer he touches her.

“Oh!”, she sighs, her small hips jerking forward, towards his hand.

  
By now she’s wet and slick on his lap and he could rub her clit like this for ages, until she would be sobbing with it. But he won’t be mean, and Jo just sounds so sweet, sweet enough to deserve to come.

“Doesn’t that feel good, Jo?”

She nods, fervently.

“Good.”, he murmurs, kissing her temple, “I’m glad it does.”

And flicks her clit, making her gasp, and again, and rubs along her pussy, gathering her wetness, rubbing her, and all too soon, all too quickly, she trails off into breathy moans, her legs shaking around his hips, until –

\- she bucked into him, again and again, and against his fingers, her pussy grew wetter and pulsed.

Jo slackened, slumping against him as he could feel her pussy throbbing. Must be a good orgasm – or at least he hoped it was. Against his throat, he could feel Jo’s lips and wet breath as she gasped for air.

“Good?”, he asked, when she’d gotten back on track again.

Leaning back, he could finally see her in her whole glory again.

And fuck, did the whole post-orgasm haze suit her already: she was flush with it, and everyone who’d even just see her face right now would simply know she’d just come, and damn good at that, too. She was beaming at him.

“Felt _great_.”

“Happy to hear that.”, he said, finally pulling his hand away from her pussy, making her twitch as he did so. Oh, she could probably go for a second one, no problem. But fingering her for real might be pushing it, if he’s honest.

  
Still, she’d been on his lap and he’d made her come, probably for the first time in her life and that’s –

“So, and you?”, she asks, interrupting his thoughts.

And pulling them to a hard stop. Hard, ha.

“Well…”, he starts, momentarily searching for an idea how to proceed from here on out, because while he does want things, he’s not entirely sure how to utter that without making Jo scream for Ellen. If she knew what he wanted to do to her, with her, she would, no doubt.

And he looks at Jo, her still orgasm-flushed face and her sweet tits and her pussy that was still smearing her wetness on his thighs, and somehow, he manages to get the words out, despite the risk:

“You know what would feel really great for me? If I could open my pants.”

Jo giggles, but she doesn’t slip off his lap, so he counts it as a win. And pops open the jeans button.

Only now does he realize how tight his pants had grown and how much he needs his cock out, _now_. So he does: pulling down the zipper, and taking out his cock is basically one movement. Doesn’t trust Jo to take it out, and that’d also be a risk…he doesn’t want to play anymore.

“Oh!”, she says, looking at his cock interestedly.

If John would have patience, he’d play his cards like an anatomy lesson, would tell her how it worked, how much Ellen would hate this, how much Jo could rebel by doing anything, anything at all John wanted her to do –

But the truth is: he needs to come and he’s too turned on to keep on playing like this. He’s been ready to blow his load the second he’d seen Jo’s stiff nipples poking through her shirt and this, right now, with her on his lap, all come-drunk and naked and gorgeous, he’s so beyond what he can take.

“Jo”, he grits out, “You know what would feel perfect for me?”

“No?”, she asks, still eyeing his cock with interest. Not scared. Good.

“Do you think I could put it inside you? Where I just touched you?”

Her eyes flick up at him and she’s biting her lower lip nervously.

“I-I’m not sure where to -?”

“But I do know. And I’m going to make it good for you, promise.”, he says, fingers inching close to her clit again.

Jo’s mouth shapes into a wordless ‘o’ as he starts circling her clit again, fingers still slick with her juices.

“What do you think, Jo?”, he finally asks, when he can feel her getting wet for him again, just as her breathing is quickening again.

Jo nods, once.

Oh fuck. Oh fuck, _finally_.

He slicks up his cock with his precome and her wetness and then, finally, oh, god, finally, does he push into her.

Slowly.

Against his throat, Jo makes a choked-off noise. She’s not as tight as he’d feared she’d be, but still, it’s a snug fit. He’s definitely not going to fuck her or do anything more than maybe gently rocking into her, if he’s lucky.

Doesn’t matter. His cock is pushing into Jo – into her sweet, sweet pussy that’s so wet and hot around him and she makes these tiny noises as if she can’t quite help herself but is edging the fine line of pain and pleasure –

So he picks up rubbing her clit again, to make sure she’ll fall on the right side of it. Even if he’s desperately trying not to immediately blow his load, he can do this much. Especially when it makes her pussy clench around him.

And Jo’s so responsive, too: it doesn’t take him long to find out which way he’s got to rub her, smear her slick around her clit to get her pussy to throb in the best way.

Jo moans.

She’s got to be stuffed to the brim, John’s sure – her pussy is as relaxed as can be, wet and swollen in arousal, and _still_.

He just knows _exactly_ why it’s such a tight affair, after all.

Her tiny frame trembles against him as he starts rocking into her. Not even fucking her properly, but even just this feels so good. Her sweet little nipples rub against his chest as she holds onto him, moans spilling from her with every movement of his cock.

She feels so good.

If he’d thought rubbing her cute tits, or suckling her nipples, or even playing her clit until she’d come was good, it was nothing on this: on her body rocking against his, him pushing into her as much as he can and sweetening the deal by rubbing her clit.

Soon, her moans get higher and her pussy starts throbbing again – except this time, he feels it and she’s clenching around his cock so tightly it’s almost painful, throbbing and pulsing and – and his rhythm on her clit falters but apparently that doesn’t matter –

Jo moans, helplessly, as she comes against – _around_ – him and her little pussy almost _milks_ him so hard he has no choice but to come – John groans, pushing up and into Jo as much as he can, his hips flush with Jo’s legs and ass, his cock buried as deep into her as he can and _comes_. 

The moment feels so good and it goes on forever and god, John’s floating with it.

Coming back from it is slow and when he does, he quickly notices Jo’s weight is still on his lap. Fuck, hopefully it felt good for her, too, but seeing as she’s still there and came twice, the indication is good.

With a groan, he relaxes slightly. On his lap, Jo makes a small noise and finally lets go of her hold on him.

“Was that sex?”, she asks, and.

Her question is so naïve, her voice so high and girly and - John just kisses her on the cheek instead of kissing her deeply and with some tongue slipped in.

“Yes. Do you see why your mom would hate it?”

Jo nods.

Of course, John could give her the spiel he’d given Deanne – would give Sammi, too -, but frankly…it’s none of his business what Jo got up to. After all, it was also Ellen’s business to make sure her precious, precious girl wouldn’t do anything – except Ellen had decided that Jo was to go abstinence-only.

Well. That hadn’t worked out at all for her, had it?

John’s cock is still buried in Jo’s pussy, although it has softened by now. And he’d come in Ellen’s little princess, too.

“It might feel weird when you get up.”, he warns Jo, when she motions to get up.

And going by the face she pulls, it does, as his cock slips from her. A trickle of come drips out of her, and some trails down her thighs, so John grabs a tissue, wiping it off. Nothing to be done for the come on the floor.

“I’m going to wipe that away later, it’s ok.”, Jo just says and takes a step to pick up her shorts.

She’s walking bow-legged and every movement has more come trickling out of her. It’ll soak her pants, no doubt.

John licks his lips. The thought is kind of hot, imagining Jo walking upstairs, maybe to get new clothes, maybe to shower, and maybe she wouldn’t shower, instead his come would be smeared on her skin for some time – would be trickling and drooling out of her. And at night, she’d try to recreate this, perhaps start playing with her clit as she’d get off…

Oh, the daydreams, for sure. John would be busy with his thoughts for quite some time to come.

When he leaves, he makes sure to leave her a nice, hefty tip.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm loosely playing with the idea of writing a follow-up fic for this...after all, John _has_ been having unsafe sex with Jo, hasn't he? Or did you read that in this fic, John has two daughters? The options are endless...but mainly, I think I'd be writing a fic with a pregnant Jo.


End file.
